


Push and Pull

by corgasbord



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, Pillow Fights, nobu being a FIEND as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 22:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20955926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corgasbord/pseuds/corgasbord
Summary: Nobunaga's body heat makes her the perfect blanket; Okita's softness makes her the perfect pillow.





	Push and Pull

**Author's Note:**

> i realized it was international lesbians day and felt like i had to post something, so i dug through some drafts and cleaned this up... take it as proof that i'm somehow still alive and kicking and still loving these lesbians same as always

“Ugh, you’re too hot.”

Nobunaga doesn’t quite lift her face out of Okita’s chest. She keeps her chin nestled there, head inclined upwards only enough that she’s sure Okita can see the grin pulling at her cheeks. “Is that so? Well, you’re not the first person to tell me that.”

Okita realizes her mistake in the span of a second. The red dusting her cheekbones is plenty worth the hard flick that gets delivered to Nobunaga’s forehead shortly afterwards.

“You know what I meant,” she huffs. “You might as well be a portable space heater.”

“Don’t go comparing me to one of those things. I may warm your bed well enough, but I’m still the Demon King-”

That gets her another flick in the face, and this time she grimaces. “Hey, cut that out! I was just making a joke.”

“Oh, spare me,” Okita says, now thoroughly pink. “I could kick you out any time I wanted, you know.”

“Nuh-uh. This is our room, dummy. _Our_ room. The one we share, because we specifically asked Master if we could do that.”

Okita’s lip curls just a bit at one corner, as if she's irritated by the reminder. Nobunaga knows that she doesn’t mean it. If she were so bothered by Nobunaga’s presence, she wouldn’t allow Nobunaga to sprawl out on top of her the way that she so often does—like she’s doing now—much less share a bed with her in the first place.

Smiling broadly, Nobunaga lifts herself away from Okita’s body and leans up to bring their faces level. Her lips pucker and plant themselves on the side of Okita’s mouth, and when she pulls off it’s with a comical wet noise.

“Grumpy, grumpy. Don’t be like that,” she chides, a hand laying a couple of placating pats to Okita’s cheek. “You don’t want to get rid of me. Then who else is going to keep your lonely self warm on cold winter nights?”

“It’s not winter,” Okita says, even though it may as well be in a place like Chaldea. “But you make a good blanket, I’ll give you that.”

“I’m not a blanket!”

Okita’s started to smirk now. “You pretty much are now.”

“You think you’re using me as a blanket? Don’t be foolish.” It’s all semantics, she thinks, none of it matters, but she responds with a defiant toss of her head, “The Demon King does not simply let herself be used. You get to keep warm because I’m using _you_ as a pillow.”

“I don’t have to let you lie on top of me, though.”

“It’s not like you make me wait for your permission.”

Okita narrows her eyes. “Okay, get off, then.”

Nobunaga settles more of her weight against Okita. “No.”

“Nobu-”

“Nope! You’re my pillow now.”

“I’m not anyone’s pillow!”

“Oh yeah? In that case…” Nobunaga shifts down again. She lets her head flop onto Okita’s chest as though limp, cheek squished against one of her breasts, and meets her eyes again. “How do you explain these?”

For a second, she relishes the way Okita’s mouth gapes open in equal parts disbelief and embarrassment, crimson climbing all the way down to her neck—but only for a second. Okita’s arm moves, grasps for something, and Nobunaga doesn’t have time to register what it is until something soft is pelting her in the face with enough force to _almost_ hurt.

“You,” Okita pushes herself up to sit, forcing Nobunaga to flop off of her body with about as much grace as a tripped horse, “you’re the worst, you know that? The. Worst!”

She punctuates each word with another pillowed blow to Nobunaga’s head. Nobunaga folds her arms over her face in a futile attempt to stave off the assault, but Okita is relentless, as she always is when Nobunaga’s poked a toe across the line.

“Ah, Okita-” Nobunaga scrambles away, trying not to laugh. “There’s no need to get violent, I was complimenting you!”

Her answer is the _plap_ of a pillow landing in her face.

So that’s how it’s going to be. Okita has already reclaimed her pillow, but there’s one more on the bed, and so Nobunaga grabs for it with all the same eagerness she’d weigh one of her rifles in her hands with. One can’t have a battle unarmed, after all.

“Very well,” she says, “I will make you regret challenging me!”

As if to prove her wrong, Okita lunges across the bed at her again. Nobunaga only just manages to block her face and shove back against her, but it’s not enough to knock Okita off-balance. She whacks at Nobunaga’s arm with the pillow once, twice, five times, until Nobunaga rolls to the side with a frustrated grunt.

Bad idea, she realizes, but only after she’s already taken a tumble onto her back, flat on the mat she’s covered their floor with. Okita stares down at her from the edge of the bed, a pillow now clutched in each hand, the faint crease between her brows betraying a hint of concern. Nobunaga takes a second to suck the breath back into her lungs and grasps at the empty air above her, fingers closing and opening and closing in the direction of Okita’s hand.

“Give that back,” she says, half a wheeze.

Okita blinks. Her eyes follow Nobunaga’s, and as if she doesn’t need to spare it any thought at all, she drops the pillow for Nobunaga to catch. Her only warning before it lands right back in her face is the manic grin that curls across Nobunaga’s.

“Foolish!” Nobunaga cries with a laugh triumphant and breathless, fumbling to her knees and then to her feet with the pillow tight in her grip. “What did you think was going to happen when you did that?”

“I don’t- ack!” she splutters, because Nobunaga doesn’t leave room for a proper answer. She continues her assault from the higher ground, and Okita counters her, now on the defensive, knees planted wide on the mattress to keep her balance. She’s successful at it, too—until Nobunaga throws her weight behind one of her swings, and the force of it is enough to make Okita topple backwards with a yelp. Nobunaga pitches forward after her, but scrambles fast for her composure, throwing a knee over one side of Okita’s waist to keep her pinned.

“Do you understand now, Okita? You never had any hope of beating me in the first place,” Nobunaga says as she brings her pillow up above her head with both arms. “Because I! Am! The undisputed king! Of pillow fights!”

Nobunaga bears down on Okita as mercilessly as she’d been beaten before, cackling all the while. Okita’s pillow becomes her shield, and from behind it Nobunaga hears a muffled shriek that tapers off into a fit of laughter. She knows it’s laughter from the way that Okita’s sides and shoulders shake, from the way it fills her own belly and makes her grip on her pillow falter. She doesn’t stop, though, not until they’re both breathless enough with it that Okita wheezes out, “Okay, okay, fine! You win, or whatever, so get off!”

She delivers one last swat to Okita for good measure before dismounting and rolling off to the side. They lie there, flat on their backs for a moment, with the only sounds between them the heavy puffs of their breath.

“Hah… hah…” Another smile comes to Nobunaga’s face, lazy with her victory. “Aha! That’s what you get for picking a fight with me.”

Okita doesn’t say anything. She’s still panting, eyes fixed on the ceiling and cheeks as flushed as if they’d just gotten done sparring. Nobunaga raises an eyebrow, watching her with an uneasy twitch behind her expression.

“You okay there? Surely I didn’t do that much damage with just a pillow.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Okita snorts. “You’re just… exhausting.”

“In more ways than one, right?”

Okita casts a glare over at her, to which Nobunaga snickers, one dismissive hand raised to wave off the statement. “Just another little joke. If you’re worn out, take a nap.”

Okita closes her eyes and exhales, slow and deep. “I just might do that.”

Her eyes reopen, though, as Nobunaga crawls on top of her, taking up a position much like the one she’d held previously. “Not to worry. I’ll keep you warm,” Nobunaga says, and her arms snake up around Okita’s sides to hold their bodies together, as if to insist upon it. “And you can be my pillow.”

“You’re gonna make me overheat,” Okita says, voice slipping into a whine.

“You’ll be fine.” Nobunaga tilts her face down and nuzzles it below Okita’s collarbone again, mumbling into the fabric of Okita’s sleep shirt, “It can’t be helped.”

She gets a light smack on the crown of her head for that, but Okita utters no further protest, and the looseness in her limbs is all the indication Nobunaga needs that she’s content right where they are.

**Author's Note:**

> all of my (finished) okinobu has been silly fluff where nothing happens but i hope to change that... soon... stay tuned...


End file.
